Never Let Him See
by IndigoXsoul
Summary: "Never let him see you in pain, never let him see you age. He doesn't like endings." Post "The Angels Take Manhattan." (Spoilers!)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Doctor Who, if I did, River wouldn't be stuck in the TARDIS, and Amy and Rory wouldn't be stuck back in time, they'd all be out with the Doctor, shooting his hats, eating fish fingers and custard, and helping him save the world.

**A/N: ****(Feel free to skip my useless rambling) **So I was supposed to update my fics this week. *hides* But I saw the episode and... ouch, augh! So many feels! I don't think it's really computed in my head that Amy and Rory won't be coming back. But anyway, River's line about not letting the Doctor see her pain, or see her age really struck me. So after watching the episode... I wrote this. Spoilers for the _The Angels Take Manhattan_ (duh). If you guys want it continued, just let me know. I kind of like it as is.

* * *

**Never Let Him See**

* * *

Since Manhattan, The days that passed between River and the Doctor were spent in numb silence. They went to see Brian, to tell him how bravely his son and his daughter-in-law had died. River had introduced herself. She'd finally met her grandfather in the way that mattered, instead of as the incorrigible Mels. All the fish fingers and custard had been locked away where the Doctor didn't have to look at them. Apples, too. Beans, yogurt, anything that reminded him of the damage he'd caused.

He'd broken a promise.

He'd promised Brian that Amy and Rory wouldn't die during their travels. The Doctor lied, but he never broke his promises.

Except now.

His wandering, shaking fingers, usually steady on the controls now played idly with the buttons on the TARDIS console.

Even She had gone quiet. The reassuring thrum beneath his feet was gone. Everything was gone. Amy's laughter as it rang off the halls of the TARDIS, Rory's quiet, awkward, but comforting presence, the joy that'd been so prevalent in this chapter of the Doctor's life, all of that was gone. Snuffed out, like a candle in a gust of wind. Silence had fallen. He'd always thought that it was supposed to be his silence. But… it never was. One by one, the people he cared about, the things he loved, everything that he found beautiful was silenced while he plodded on through the stars. He was a lonely god. What god? Weren't gods supposed to be all-powerful? Weren't they supposed to save people? What kind of a god got bested by angels?

He wasn't a god. He wasn't a hero.

He was just a madman with a box.

* * *

River sat on the edge of their bunk beds. The TARDIS had preserved the Pond's room. Even as the Doctor had tried to get rid of the things that reminded him of them, River had silently begged the TARDIS to preserve this small sanctum for herself. It was reassuring, being in here. Their presence still seemed to pervade the room. Amy's perfume, Rory's coat, the watch on the bedside table.

The picture.

River reached over and picked it up off the nightstand, her fingers tracing the wooden edges of the frame. She stared down at them, her parents. Their faces were happy as they held each other, looking back at her, reminding her that somewhere in Time and Space they were _still_ happy, living out their lives together like they'd always wanted.

She felt a lump growing in her throat as she opened the back of the frame and removed the picture. Slowly, she fished into her coat for her journal. She lifted out the TARDIS-blue book, opening it to a new page and gently placing the picture inside. She closed the book and kissed the cover reverently, laying it down on the nightstand and lying down on the blue bedspread.

her eyes squeezed shut and she bit down on her lip to keep the tears from coming. The Doctor would still be able to hear her. The room wasn't that far away from the console. A small bead of blood formed on her lip from the force of the bite, and she swallowed hard and relaxed a little. Her reward for her efforts was a small, choked, tearless sob.

She had to stop this. She couldn't cry… the Doctor would hear her, he'd see…and then what? He'd want to fix it, the damned man! He couldn't fix this! Not unless he wanted to rewrite time…and he of all people knew that wasn't possible. Not in this case. There was nothing he could do.

"River?"

She felt the mattress sink down an inch or two. His voice was cracked, broken. A warm hand rested on her shoulder and she flicked it away. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up.

She looked at him, positive her eyes were red. Immediately, she cradled her wrist. It was a reminder. A reminder of the things he would do- the lengths he would go to so that he could end her pain. To prolong the inevitable. A reminder for her to keep silent.

His fingers brushed on her wrist as he looked at her, eyes filled with ancient pain. "River-" he repeated. His mouth shut, and she realized he didn't know what to say. "I'm…sorry," he breathed finally.

She sucked in a breath and shook her head, "There's nothing you could've done-"

"-you've been crying," he countered.

"-doesn't matter," she snapped back.

"Let me help… don't do this alone, River…we- need each other-" he bit his lip as he looked at her, fingers tracing Gallifreyan on her wrist. She absentmindedly recognized the word: _grief_._  
_

She snatched her hand away and rested it in her lap, looking down at it. She couldn't let him do this. He had enough pain without trying to fix hers. He couldn't fix hers. He was her Doctor, yes. But- she couldn't let him see her cry. She never did. He couldn't see her pain. If he did, it might drive him mad. She knew what the pain of those he loved did to him. Demonsrun was proof enough of that.

* * *

The Doctor returned his hands to his lap. She was angry with him, he was sure. Suddenly, he realized her ragged breathing. She was trying not to cry. His hearts twisted in his chest and his mouth continued, his stupid mouth that wouldn't ever stop, "River, _please_."

"Shut up!" River shot back, wrapping her arms around herself. "Just go."

The Doctor stood, "Why won't you let me help?" He exclaimed in frustration.

"Because you _can't_. Get out," she shouted back, those eyes glaring at him. They were dry, but her shoulders were shaking. Her voice was shattered.

"River-"

"Dammit, Doctor!" She slapped him, "Get out!"

His cheek stung. A reflection of how he felt. Of what River was doing to him right now. He looked down at her in hurt and surprise. Why was he surprised? She was a Pond. Of course she slapped people. He could feel the tears springing to his eyes and he nodded. Turning as she sunk back onto the bed, the Doctor slowly walked out, shutting the door behind him.

River's muffled sob reverberated throughout the hall as the Doctor slid to the floor, leaning his head against the door.

A god bested by angels.

Some hero he turned out to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **(Feel free to skip my useless rambling) So I got some requests to continue this, and my feels weren't satisfied, so here you guys go, a slightly bittersweet ending. Hope you enjoy, and please leave a review! They make me happy! :)

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**Never Let Him See**

II

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It took him a while, but the Doctor finally found it in him to heave himself off the ground. His long legs carried him to the kitchen and he made himself a cup of tea.

As he stirred the aromatic liquid, his eyes busied themselves following the swirl of the tea as his thoughts brought him back to that bedroom. He was glad he couldn't hear River's tears, seeing her cry might possibly be the most painful thing about this whole past couple of days. Not because she was pained, but because she wouldn't let him ease her pain. It confused him. Wasn't that what marriage was about? Helping each other? Didn't the humans call it a 'helpmate'? He needed to do something. To save someone. Couldn't she understand that? The only way he knew how to deal with his overwhelming pain was to fix other things. He was the Doctor. That was his job, and River wasn't letting him do it.

In a way, though he had to be thankful to her. His preoccupation to the hows and whys of River Song was keeping his mind from wandering down the dark void that used to be called Pond.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of repeated gunfire. He nearly catapulted out of place and followed the offending noise. He found the source in the flowing, powerful body lines, wild hair, and a pair of green-blue eyes that'd hardened to jewels as River fired round after round into a row of targets in a room that he certainly didn't remember being a part of the TARDIS.

He covered his ears and winced. "River!"

"What?" She bellowed over the sound of the gun.

He took a cautious step forward, "What are you doing?"

"Practicing." She lifted the gun and took aim. The gunshot rang through the room, causing the Doctor to jump violently.

"River, can't we just…talk?"

"About?" Another deafening gunshot.

He took another step forward and River whirled and trained the gun right at his left heart, glaring, cold fire burning behind her eyes. He flinched and raised his hands. "Why won't you let me help."

She get the gun trained on him as she circled the room like a prowling cat, walking over to switch guns. She finally put it down on the table and began taking it apart mechanically as she spoke. "I already told you, you can't."

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "River-"

"No."

"Please, River, I'm the Doctor- that's what I do. I help- I fix things, that's my job!" He was pleading with her now.

Something inside River flared and she whirled to face him. She walked up to him and grabbed him by his bowtie. "Don't you try to fix me, Sweetie." The pet name sounded like a curse. She began to push past him when she felt him catch her wrist. She tried to wrench it from his grasp, her temper rising as she fought to keep control of her grief. Whipping around, she was infuriated to find him staring back at her, those old/young eyes filled with pain, and hurt, and confusion. She could see the wheels in his head turning. He was trying to work out some massive puzzle. "Let. Go." She demanded through gritted teeth.

"Not until you tell me the real reason you won't let me see what's really going on with you," he replied quietly, those cobalt eyes seeming to sear into her mind.

"Why don't you just find out for yourself?" She snapped, "You're psychic."

"Because I want you to know that you can tell me," he replied back.

River bit her lip. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't. But she was tired of mothering the Doctor. She was tired of being strong for him. And yet she needed to, because she couldn't force her grief on him too, her pain, it might drive him absolutely mad and she couldn't do that to him, no matter how much he begged. She had to protect him. She had to take care of him.

She needed to run, to twist away, to hide. She needed to go somewhere where she could cry without worrying about him. Why couldn't he just see for once that she was trying to help him? She hit him on the arm, pulling away frantically, feeling ready to burst with emotion if he didn't let her go. Again, she hit him on the chest, and he grabbed for her other wrist. She twisted, ducked, trying to break free so she could be alone with her thoughts. She couldn't let him see, but she was terrified, Godammit, and she just wanted to be comforted. She wanted to be able to stop being strong. She was upset and she just wanted her Mum and her Dad to hold her tight and tell her everything was going to be okay.

She hiccupped and collapsed against him, a sob escaping from her lips. She couldn't do this, she couldn't be strong, not for this. She'd tried and there was no way she was going to be able to hide her grief for her parents.

She felt the Doctor's hands release her wrists and his arms wrap around her shoulders and back as she cried quietly into his shoulder. His hands wound in her hair and he pressed kisses to it. She felt his shoulders shaking as he began to cry as well. Her fingers grabbed great fistfuls of his tweed jacket, needing to find something solid to grab onto, to anchor herself as her carefully crafted mask of strength fell away. She was vulnerable.

"Shh," she heard him whisper, "There you go, love. It's okay to cry. I know it hurts…but we have each other right now and Amy and Rory wouldn't want us to be fighting like this." She felt him swallow, "I know you probably blame me for their death…and I am so, so sorry, River- but please don't block me out of your hurt. I need to be able to help you. Neither of us can do this alone." He then pressed a finger under her chin and cupped her tear-stained face in one hand, wiping gently at her tears with the other, "Now do you want to tell me what all of that nonsense was about?"

She sniffled. "I was trying to protect you, Sweetie," she admitted.

He pushed her curls back, a trembling smile on his face. "River- you never cease to amaze me. You're brilliant, you are, but I'll survive. I won't have you trying to protect me at your expense more than you already have to." She hiccupped again and nodded, straightening his bowtie. He smiled and gently caught her wandering fingers and brought them to his lips. "You Ponds, always looking after me."

"Mum did tell me to, Doctor," River reminded him quietly. She looked up and saw darkness in his eyes at her words. She bit her tongue, old instincts rising in her.

He swallowed thickly, his hands rubbing circles on her fingers. "C'mon." He pulled her back to the kitchen, setting her down. He poured her a cup of tea and then walked over to the fridge. He opened it and pulled out two cups of custard and some fish fingers that were somehow still warm.

He sat down next to her and handed her one cup of custard, peeling the top off of hers and then his and opened the tuppaware of fish fingers. He pressed a small, trembling kiss to her forehead.

"Fish fingers and custard?"

River nodded, sucking in a breath. "Fish fingers and custard."

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
